


Quid Pro Quo

by houseofcannibals



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Oral Sex, Spanking, straightjacket play, will manipulating hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofcannibals/pseuds/houseofcannibals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is confined in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, accused of murders that he knows were committed by Hannibal Lecter, a man he trusted and desired. Desperate and betrayed, Will concocts a plan to make Hannibal talk... But he knows it's going to cost him. Quid pro quo. Secrets for... anything else. </p><p>This was a little request for someone, sorry it took me so long and I hope you like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quid Pro Quo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sandraque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandraque/gifts).



Night had fallen beyond the grey walls of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Inside it was dim, cool. Will lay on his bunk in only worn-thin boxers and a t-shirt, body curled toward the stone wall. He was still but not sleeping. His mind was very far from the bleak halls of the asylum, picking relentlessly through old case files, re-examining pieces of evidence which now dwelled in labelled boxes in the basement of the FBI, wandering old crimes scenes through memory, recreated in vivid and frightening detail.

Somewhere, he knew, in the blood-drenched pages of the Chesapeake Ripper’s murderous resume, somewhere, he would find an unmistakable fragment of Hannibal Lecter. He just had to keep looking, keep hunting. It was the only thing keeping him sane. 

His body tensed at the very thought of Hannibal, resentment twisting in his gut like a blade. It was Dr Lecter’s design that he was here now, left to rot in his dank cell with nothing but his own brutal imagination for company; worse, he knew in his heart that Hannibal had done this to him almost entirely for his own amusement. But while part of his mind hunted for something to save himself, scrabbling desperately for release from this confinement, finding no purchase and slipping back into the dark, another part ached for something which lay just beyond its boundaries. Amongst the wreckage of his old life, he could not deny that he found unmistakable traces of desire which remained even after the doctor’s betrayal, like the debris left behind by the cruel tide which sweeps aside a hundred homes. As he hunted through old memories for a way to prove what had been done to him, he could not help but to linger too long on encounters with Hannibal, to dream of scenarios in which things had ended differently between them. 

He rolled onto his back, sighing, then onto his other side. He was restless, his body bristling with pent-up energy. He thought about his dogs, how good it would feel to run alongside them through the flat fields that surrounded his little house. But this was his home now. Rolling onto his back again, he stared down his chest at the bars of his small cell, at the dark hallway beyond. He wondered what Hannibal was doing at that moment.

“Mr Graham, you are _restless_ tonight aren’t you?”

Will put a hand behind his head and tried to settle into a comfortable position, but all he wanted to do was run and scream. “Hello Dr Gideon. I hope I wasn’t keeping you awake.”

“Oh not at all,” Gideon murmured from the next cell. “Having trouble sleeping?”

“Thinking things over.”

“Three guess what you are thinking about. Or should I say _who_.”

“I’d wager you were thinking about him too,” Will said. “He did get into both our heads, after all.”

“Got inside and fiddled with the machinery,” Gideon said. From the way his voice carried into Will’s cell, it sounded as though he was sitting up on his cot with his back to the wall. “Made sure all the dials were pointed straight at him.” He chuckled.  
“And made sure nobody would believe you when you told them.”

“They’ll believe me,” Will said, softly. “In the end, they’ll know.”

“I can’t imagine how you get any sleep in here at all,” Gideon continued, his voice drifting hauntingly through the quiet dark. “Knowing that you’re in here and he’s out there.”

“Not for long.”

“You hope,” Gideon said. He sounded as though he was having far too much fun at Will’s expense. And why not, Will thought. Gideon was clearly as bored as Will felt, stuck in this place. Not that he would be stuck here for much longer. Dr Lecter would see to that. Gideon knew far too much.

“They want to put you down like a dog, Mr Graham,” Gideon said. “Strap you to the electric chair and fry that unusual brain of yours until it’s about ready to be _eaten_.”

Will swallowed. “Is this your idea of helping me get to sleep?”

“Just an observation.”

“Hannibal won’t let it go that far. He’s far too interested in me to let me die like that, it’s so… pedestrian. If I’m going to die, he’d prefer to do it himself.”

“You hope,” Gideon said again. 

Will sat up and pulled his knees up to his chest, his back to the wall. “I’m going to make Hannibal talk, eventually. He won’t be able to resist. He can become carried away in self-congratulation… So wrapped up in letting everyone know how clever the Ripper is that he won’t notice he’s revealing too much. That will be how I catch him.”

“There is another way,” Gideon murmured. 

Will turned his head, as though he might catch a glimpse of Gideon through the brickwork. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, we all have,” Gideon said, his lilting voice amused but serious. “The Ripper would like nothing more than to twist you into uncomfortable positions, Mr Graham. Make you squeal. Perhaps you should let him.”

Will’s breath stuttered out of him in a shaky laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, I’ve seen the way _you_ look at _him_ as well. Like a kid peering in the window of a candy shop. You _crave_ him, don’t you Will? Even after everything he’s done to you, you _want_ him.”

Will said nothing. 

“Oh, I’m not judging you,” Gideon continued. “Given how my marriage ended, I’m hardly one to be dishing out relationship advice, am I? I’m just suggesting a way that you might catch him. Lure him into saying something he shouldn’t.”

“I’m all ears, Abel.”

“Well, you’ve done just an excellent job of playing hard to get this far. Perhaps it’s time to give him a taste of what he wants. Indulge his lust, and his sadism. Not too much, not all at once. Give him a little drink of what you have to offer, and take it away. Excite him. Trade him sips for _secrets_.”

Will wet his lips, thinking. “That plan is… unorthodox.”

“Mmmm yes it is. And yet you are considering it; I can hear it in your voice. You’re getting hard at the thought of it, or am I wrong about that?”

Will said nothing. Gideon made a small sound of amusement.

“That would be a yes. Just think how much the Ripper might be willing to divulge just for a peek at what you have to offer him. One secret… One _spank_. Or am I being crude?”

Will laughed softly, but his heart had begun to race. “The Ripper might think so. I, on the other hand, think you might be on to something.”

“Just a suggestion.” A creak of bedsprings. When Gideon’s voice came again, it was lower; he had lain down to sleep. “Do with it what you will…”

“Thank you,” Will said. He was staring up at the shadows engulfing the top of his cage, but his mind was far away, already putting his plan together. “Good night, Dr Gideon.”

“Good night, Mr Graham,” Gideon murmured. “Sweet dreams…”

 

*

 

“Chilton won’t be back until tomorrow. He doesn’t need to know what we’re doing today.”

Will walked stiffly at Matthew’s side, glad for the orderly’s hand on his upper arm, guiding him gently. Matthew had done what he asked, despite the man’s bemusement at his request; the straightjacket was very tight, and Will felt unbalanced and slightly claustrophobic. He had grown begrudgingly accustomed to the feeling of handcuffs and leg restraints, of rough hands gripping his arms, pushing and pulling him, but he would never get used to the straightjacket. He could feel a tight knot of panic beginning to unfurl in his chest to choke him, and struggled to keep it together. His quick, shallow breaths began to fog the clear plastic of the restraint mask over his face. Matthew glanced at him, and Will made an effort to look in control. He was already beginning to think this had been a mistake. And once he was alone with Hannibal, there would be no going back.

“When he arrives, I need you to leave us alone in the privacy room,” he said, working hard to keep his voice level. “Make it seem like I’ve paid you off. He won’t talk to me if he thinks there’s a chance that anyone is watching.”

“No problem.”

“I appreciate you sticking your neck out like this for me.”

Matthew shrugged his shoulders minutely in acknowledgement, his eyes straight ahead. “Always happy to do a favour for a friend…”

Will said nothing. He knew that Hannibal would kill Matthew Brown if he ever found out about the role the man was playing today in his ensnarement. Of course, if everything went to plan, he might never get the chance. Will wondered if he was callous for putting Matthew in this position, when the man was operating under the assumption that Will was just like him, a predator who’d been hiding in plain sight, and would kill again when he got the chance. He wondered if he cared if Matthew died. He decided he did not want to know the answer, and pushed the thought away.

They reached the privacy room, and Matthew let go of Will’s arm to unlock the door from the thick bundle of keys that hung from his hip. Will stepped inside and slowly made his way around the table to stand in front of the window. He could see trees outside, grass and sky. His throat constricted. He had not been outside this building since the farce that should have been his trial, and even then it had only been for a minute at most, a few quick glorious breaths of crisp fresh air before he was bundled into the back of the transport van. He thought again of his dogs, of sitting on his porch on a temperate evening watching them chase each other through the grass, a glass of whiskey in his hand and no handcuffs, his own clothes on his back, his own bed to sleep in. He focussed on that image and told himself that that was what he was here to win back. He was nervous about what he would have to do, but he was resolute in his conviction that it would be worth it in the end. He would do almost anything to get out of this grey place where his mind slowly unspooled like a thread. 

“Are you sure about this?” Matthew said from the door. 

Will turned round, wondering how sure he looked. “I think this might be the best way to catch him. So yes. I’m sure.”

Careful not to overbalance, he slipped out of his ugly Velcro shoes and kicked them aside. He did not fail to notice the way that Matthew’s eyes travelled up from his bare feet to where his pale thighs disappeared into his institutional-grey boxer shorts, then back down, nor the way the man’s tongue crept out to wet his upper lip.

“When he arrives, you’ll make sure that no one disturbs us?” Will said. “I would, uh, prefer not to be seen in… compromising positions.”

Matthew dragged his eyes up to Will’s face. “Yes… How long do you think it will take?”

“Give us an hour then come in to break it up – if I haven’t made him talk by then, I don’t think I ever will. And if you hear me, uh… If you hear me screaming, or crying out at all…” Will glanced down at his bare toes, swallowing. “Just ignore it, alright?”

Matthew’s gaze was steady. “Got it. I think you’re mad. If he is what you say he is… In that straightjacket, you won’t be able to fight back. I know he won’t kill you, not in here… But he could still hurt you.”

Will shivered, glancing out the window again at the life beyond the hospital walls. 

“I intend on it.”

 

*

 

Hannibal’s face was a picture of shock as Orderly Brown led him into the privacy room and he caught sight first of Will, then of the thin wooden cane Matthew had left on the table. He quickly composed himself, but the slight arch of his eyebrow and twitch of his lip gave him away. He straightened his back and met Will’s eye, his own bright with curiosity and excitement. 

“Will. You wanted to see me?”

“Hello Dr Lecter. Thank you for coming. Could you leave us alone now Matthew?”

Hannibal glanced at Matthew, who smiled wryly. “About the money, Mr Graham…”

“You’ll get it,” Will said, shortly, glancing out the window again. 

Matthew tilted his head, and turned for the door. “I’ll be at the end of the hall if you need me, turning a blind eye…”

Will waited until Matthew had rounded the corner at the end of the corridor before looking at Hannibal. The doctor was dressed in his finest blue plaid, the shirt beneath impeccably crisp. Will’s nose was not as refined as Hannibal’s, but he caught a waft of shoe polish, of fine cologne. He wondered what he smelled like. Sweat and fear, probably. That was fine; he was sure Hannibal would enjoy it.

Hannibal wet his lips, his eyes travelling over Will’s bound torso. “I get the distinct impression that you did not call me here today for one of our regular therapy sessions.”

“I did not,” Will said, shifting his posture slightly, still feeling terribly unsettled in the tight straightjacket. “I asked you to come because I want to strike a deal.”

“What kind of deal did you have in mind?”

Will took a step toward him. “This is the one room in this building that Dr Chilton is not legally allowed to monitor, and I am paying an orderly to give us total privacy for one hour while Chilton is absent so that we may have a discussion in peace. What I want, Dr Lecter, is for you to be completely truthful with me. I want you to tell me _everything_. What you, what you’ve done. Who you’ve killed. I want you to fill in all the gaps in my knowledge so that I might know you completely.”

Hannibal was very still, his face composed and careful. “That’s a rather big ask, Will. I imagine you are looking for information to incriminate me.”

“I’ve already been pointing a finger at you for months and nobody has listened,” Will said, not without a touch of bitterness. “What good is a little more information going to do me? I already know most of it, I just want to hear it from your mouth. I want to hear you finally admit to what you are. It will feel glorious, won’t it? To say it out loud, to finally take credit for your accomplishments, knowing that you’re saying it to the one man who is currently suffering the consequences of your actions?”

Hannibal smiled thinly. “Appealing to vanity, Will. How cunning of you.”

“Don’t you even want to hear what I’m willing to offer you in return? My _this_ for your _that_.”

Hannibal spread his hands at his sides. “Tell me.”

“For every little secret you tell, every confession you make, I will let you do something to me,” Will said, very slowly, making sure the impact of every word was felt. “I will let you do _anything_ to me that you like.”

He saw Hannibal’s face twitch in surprise. He continued, unrelenting, pressing his advantage. 

“Orderly Brown kindly ordered this implement for me from the internet.” He nodded his head at the thin cane on the table. “If you want to hit me with it, you can. You want to put your hands around my throat? You can. You want me to blow you?” He smiled behind the plastic mask. “I’ll do it. You want to fuck me until I cry? That one will cost you but you _can_. And all I ask for in return is the truth. The whole truth. Let me know you. See you. I want to understand your mind. And my body is yours for the taking.”

For a moment, Hannibal seemed entirely lost for words. Then he cleared his throat quietly, smoothing his suit jacket with one hand. 

“That’s… That’s quite the enticing offer.”

“It’s a fair trade,” Will said, smiling sweetly though his heart was beginning to pound. Laying himself, prostrate, at Hannibal Lecter’s mercy seemed like an insurmountably stupid thing to do, but here he was. “All I want you to do is talk to me. Tell me everything you’ve kept all to yourself for all these years, all the things the Ripper hides behind closed doors. And for every little thing you tell me, I’ll let you do something to me. Aren’t you curious how much I can take?”

Hannibal’s lips were slightly parted, his eyes slightly glazed. Will could almost see his imagination working behind those eyes. “Are we talking about secrets, or… something else?”

Will shrugged his shoulders a fraction, awkwardly graceful in his restraints. “That’s for you to decide. What do you think?”

Hannibal seemed to consider the proposition for a moment longer, then his long fingers moved to unbutton his suit jacket. “Quid pro quo,” he said, as he slipped out of the jacket, folded it over his arm, and set it down on the table.

“Quid pro quo,” Will agreed.

Hannibal examined Will, as if deciding where to begin, before pulling out a chair and sitting down. “Are you really serious about this, Will? I need to know before we begin. I have remarkable self-control, but once I have started, I shall be disappointed if I am made to stop.”

“Absolutely,” Will murmured. He wanted to gauge how much he had excited Hannibal already, but the man was giving little away, and he did not appear to be hard. Not yet, at least. “I know that you’ve fantasised about me since our first therapy session, Dr Lecter. I know that I fantasised about you.”

“I have indeed,” Hannibal said. He patted his knee. “Come. Sit with me a while.”

Will hesitated only a second, his heart skipping a beat. He knew that Hannibal saw; the doctor’s lips curled into a minute smile. He knew that Will was afraid of what might be done to him, despite his boldness. And that was exactly what he wanted Will to be.

Will perched on Hannibal’s knee, feeling more unsettled than ever now. Hannibal reached up and gently stroked his hair, his cheek, his quivering throat.

“What would you like to know first?” he breathed.

Will considered, his body trembling. “We’ll start small. Have you ever killed a man?”

Hannibal’s smile widened. He leaned in and kissed Will’s throat, his breath very hot against Will’s skin. “Yes.”

Will shuddered slightly as Hannibal’s tongue moved over the rough stubble below his jawline. He felt Hannibal’s teeth graze him and pulled back. 

“Wait your turn. You know the deal – I ask a question, you get to do… something.”

“Ask quicker then,” Hannibal murmured into his skin.

“Did you kill the judge at my trial? I know you didn’t kill the bailiff. That was… Someone else.”

“Yes I killed the judge,” Hannibal said, putting one hand on the back of Will’s head and pulling him closer. Will felt Hannibal’s wet mouth on his neck, just below his ear, gently kissing and sucking – then suddenly he was biting down and Will choked on a scream, Hannibal’s hand on his head forceful now, holding him still. His tongue moved delicately over the wound he had inflicted, and then he drew back, smiling. He licked his lips. Will could feel his pulse throbbing at his throat. The bite burned as though he had been branded.

“Do you still want to play this game, Will?” Hannibal said, his smile amused but his eyes deadly serious, searching. “If you want to ask me questions of this nature, the price is going to be high.”

Will swallowed down his apprehension, his pulse still racing. “I want to know. For my own peace of mind, so I know that I’m not crazy. I don’t care what you do to me. As long as you answer honestly.”

Hannibal’s lips pressed together in a thin, satisfied smile. He tilted his head, the slightest nod. “Alright then.” 

Before Will had time to register what Hannibal was doing, Hannibal had grabbed his body and put him over his knee as though he weighed nothing more than a child. Will gasped, suddenly staring at the floor, as Hannibal’s hand moved over his ass, stroking and caressing. He hooked a finger in Will’s boxer shorts and eased them down below his cheeks. 

Then he reached for the cane.

“Thoughtful of you to bring props,” he murmured. “Ask your question then.”

With the slim rod of the cane resting against his bare ass, Will found it very difficult to think straight at all. “Why did you kill the judge at my trial?”

“Your trial was going poorly. You were going to be found guilty, and very soon. I had no desire to see you bundled away to a maximum security prison where I could not get to you.” He raised the cane and brought it whipping down against Will’s ass. Will bit down on his lip, his whole body tensing up against Hannibal’s leg. “Not right now, at least.”

“Well thank you for that… elegant solution to the problem,” Will murmured. He hesitated, badly not wanting to be hit again but needing to press on. “Why did you display him? You could have just made him disappear, it would have had the same effect.”

Hannibal hit him again, the cane impacting the same tender spot leaving it stinging. “He made poor decisions. I turned his poor decisions into art. A statement against the injustice done to you.”

“Oh, because you of all people care about the injustice down to me?”

“I care a great deal. Your incarceration here was not an accident. You will grow to understand the design behind it. The judge’s handling of your trial, however, was senseless.”

“The only reason I am here is to make me look crazy so that nobody will believe me when I point at you.”

“That is not true.”

“Then tell me. Help me understand your _design_.”

Hannibal stroked the cane up the back of Will’s thighs, across his backside, making him shiver. “You want to know me, and I am giving you the opportunity. I will be completely honest with you, as we agreed. You simply need to ask the right questions.”

Will swallowed hard. “Let’s start with what I do know and go from there. You kill. Do you harvest organs from your victims? Do you eat them?”

Hannibal chuckled darkly. “That’s two questions, isn’t it?”

He raised the cane and struck Will, once. “Yes, I harvest their organs,” he said, bringing the cane down a second time, harder now. “And yes, I eat them.”

“Do you feed them to other people? Have you fed them to me, and to Jack, without us realising what we were eating?”

He felt Hannibal’s hand caress his stinging backside. “Two questions again,” he murmured, raising the cane. “You really should be more careful about how you word them if you want to be able to sit comfortably for the foreseeable future.”

Will winced as he heard the crop whistle through the air, and gasped as it struck him, hard, across the cheeks again. “Yes, I have fed human organs to guests at my dinner table,” Hannibal said, sounding deeply amused, as though patiently indulging a child in explaining something obvious. He struck Will again, enjoying the feel of Will’s whole body going tense over his knee. “Yes. That includes you, and Jack Crawford and many, many others.”

Will’s breaths were coming out of him in short gasps. He could already tell that he was going to have bruises tomorrow. “Why do you feed your victims to others – why not keep them for yourself? Do you take sadistic pleasure in knowing you control what they’re eating – _who_ they’re eating – without them even realising?”

Hannibal put his whole arm into it this time and Will couldn’t help himself – he cried out, his eyes watering uncontrollably, his upper body squirming against his restraints. 

“The feast is life,” Hannibal said, giving Will two more sharp raps with cane on the back of both his thighs. “My cooking is impeccable, and I only serve it to those who deserve to live, at least in that present moment. While I do take pleasure in knowing that I control the nature of the feast, I find it equally enjoyable to give pleasure to the guest, to watch them enjoy their meal. It can be as rewarding to give pleasure as it is to cause pain. Do you believe me, Will?”

“Yes,” Will gasped, as Hannibal struck him again. 

“Good,” Hannibal said. He set the cane down on the table and stroked Will’s ass with his thumb. “Then I shall be delighted to give you pleasure today. But not right now.” 

He smacked Will as hard as he could with a flat hand, feeling Will jerk on impact, smiling at the pained whimper he drew from the man. He leant in and kissed Will’s neck, just below his ear, his teeth gently teasing Will’s earlobe where it protruded from the restraint mask as his fingers moved over Will’s soft but firm behind, stroking the angry red lines he’d made on Will’s skin, admiring their symmetry, their vibrancy. He pinched Will’s thigh, then spanked him again, as hard as he could. Will moaned, wriggling in his straightjacket as if trying to get away.

“I didn’t ask you a question,” he said, breathlessly. His already tentative grasp of control over the situation seemed to be slipping by the minute. “Quid pro quo, remember?”

Hannibal’s other hand crept under Will to gently stroke his cock, and Will gasped at the touch. “You’re not asking fast enough,” he murmured in Will’s ear. “And if you were only interested in your questions, you wouldn’t be so hard right now.”

Will’s face flushed red with chagrin. He had hoped Hannibal wouldn’t notice how aroused he was becoming with each blow, but of course, every impact was pushing him against Hannibal’s leg. “I just… Ah!” He cried out again as Hannibal’s big hand spanked his ass once more, the other still on his cock. “I want to make you happy,” he managed to say, his breathing laboured, his face still burning with shame. 

Hannibal hesitated, his hand raised for another blow. “Do you really?”

Will nodded, though he wasn’t sure if Hannibal could see it with Will’s head dangling over his knee. “Yes. I want you to tell me about what you do because it will make me happy to understand you better. And I want to make you happy in return… However I can.”

Hannibal smiled. “Then ask me the question that you really want to know.”

Will braced himself for pain. “Are you the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“Don’t you already know the answer to that?”

“I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you admit to being the monster you really are.”

He felt Hannibal’s body quiver with a silent chuckle. “Alright. But that will cost you more than a little spank.”

“I’ll do anything.”

Hannibal wet his lips. He helped Will to his feet, then positioned him between his legs. 

“Get on your knees for me.”

Will swallowed. Carefully, so as not to overbalance, he did as he was told. Hannibal’s fingers reached behind his head to undo the straps of the restraint mask, its clear plastic fogged white with Will’s rapid breathing. Tossing it aside, Hannibal stroked Will’s hair, his cheek. He ran a finger along Will’s lower lip and, when his lips parted receptively, put two fingers in his mouth which Will delicately sucked and kissed. Then he unbuttoned his pants. He met Will’s eye, one eyebrow raised. 

“Do you want this, Will? I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to.”

Will nodded and, even knowing what he did about Hannibal, even knowing what the man had done to him, and knowing the point of this exercise – knowing all that, it still wasn’t a lie. He had been dreaming about Hannibal since he first met the man in Jack Crawford’s office with pictures of crime scenes pinned to the wall and all his attention directed towards the strange, beautiful man with the striking cheekbones and silver-streaked hair. “Please let me suck your cock, Hannibal,” he said, breathless. “Then tell me what you are.”

Hannibal nodded in reply, and slipped his stiff cock out of his pants. Will made a small sound in the back of his throat when he saw it, unsure if it was longing or nerves or a combination of the two. He had never done this before, and Hannibal was not small. 

Tentatively, he took the tip of Hannibal’s cock in his mouth and heard the man moan faintly. Encouraged, he ran his tongue up Hannibal’s shaft and took a little more of him, wishing he had his hands free to touch himself as he did so, to touch Hannibal. He felt Hannibal’s hand on the back of his skull, gently guiding his head as Will began to bob up and down on his cock. He looked up at Hannibal through his eyelashes, thinking how beautiful Hannibal looked in this grey place, like a brightly feathered bird amongst caged pigeons. He thought about the meals he’d shared with Hannibal before he figured out what the man was, how desperately he had wanted to push his plate aside and have something else instead, to kneel on the floor of Hannibal Lecter’s cobalt-blue dining room, an ostentatious herb garden with _Leda and the Swan_ over the fireplace, and suck Hannibal off until he was screaming Will’s name. He had never imagined it would be like this, trussed up like a Christmas present in Frederick Chilton’s hospital of all places, but he could not complain. He was momentarily so happy that he forget the reason he was there. 

Hannibal sighed, his fingers winding in Will’s curls as he cradled Will’s skull. He pushed Will’s head down a little further, forcing Will to take all of him in his mouth. Will gagged, tears springing into his eyes, forgetting to breathe for a moment and almost choking as Hannibal held him in place, ignoring his wriggles, his choked little whines as panic gripped him and restricted his breathing further. 

Hannibal looked down at Will, at the tears leaking uncontrollably down his cheeks and the fear rising in his eyes. “Yes,” he said, with a tight, formidable smile as Will choked on him. “I am the Chesapeake Ripper.”

He relaxed his grip on Will’s head momentarily, allowing Will to pull away and take three deep, heaving breaths, before forcing himself back into Will’s mouth. Will gagged again and Hannibal feigned a sound of pity, holding his head in place despite Will’s struggling.

“Breathe through your nose,” he said, his free hand brushing the curls away from Will’s forehead to get a better look at him.

Will struggled to get his breathing under control, forcing himself to meet Hannibal’s eye. His chin was slick with his own saliva. He could not help the little choking sounds he made with Hannibal so deep down his throat that he imagined he would be tasting him for a week, but he was certain that the sound only made this more enjoyable for Hannibal anyway. _Indulge his lust, and his sadism._ Yes, that was the key. As sure as he was that Hannibal wanted him, the only way to get him really excited, to make him desperate and careless, was to give him a taste of control. And if Hannibal Lecter was going to have control, it was going to come at Will’s expense. 

“Good boy,” Hannibal said, sounding genuinely pleased. He let go off Will’s head and Will pulled away, breathing deeply. “Do you have another question?”

Will thought for a moment, horribly distracted by Hannibal’s cock; he couldn’t take his eyes off it. “How many people have you killed?”

“I have not kept a formal count.”

“Then tell me about them. Tell me about them while you fuck my mouth.”

Hannibal’s lips crept up into a smile. His fingers moved through Will’s hair as Will leant in and licked around the base of his cock, kissing up its length, mouthing sloppily at the head. He felt Hannibal’s hand curve to fit the contours of his skull again and took a deep breath before he took Hannibal’s cock between his lips once more.

“I killed several men in my teenage years,” Hannibal said, guiding Will’s head, slowly at first, fingers stroking lazily at Will’s curls. “A small amount of experimentation, though I always understood my own nature very well. I was discovering my tastes. I knew to be cautious, to be disciplined in my approach. I was never driven by careless impulses. As a young man I attended medical school, and as my understanding of the mechanisms of the human body grew, I became more inspired by the poetry which could be pulled from it.” He smiled. “It was also at this time that I realised the striking resemblance between most men and pigs. I came to understand what a waste it was not to make use of the meat.”

He sighed contentedly, taking Will’s head in both hands now and thrusting his hips up, forcing himself deeper into Will's mouth as he talked, ignoring Will’s choked moans as he had ignored the pleas of many victims of his dinner table. “I spent much of my time as a young man in Italy. I spent many days admiring the paintings by the old masters that hung in la gallerias, and many nights recreating them in flesh. I was known as Il Mostro. The _monster of Florence_.” He chuckled, watching Will’s face register the new information, admiring the light glinting off his tear-damp cheeks. “And then I came to America, to make masterpieces of my own design. Where I became known as the Chesapeake Ripper.”

He allowed Will a pause to breathe, his face contemplative as he watched the younger man pant before him. “How do you feel, Will?”

Will looked him in the eye, his chest heaving. “I feel like I know you a little better. I feel…”

“Yes?”

“I feel like you should just let me blow you until you come, rather than stopping to psychoanalyse me in between. It’s not a turn-on.”

“Perhaps not for you.”

Will moved to take Hannibal's cock in his mouth again, but Hannibal jerked his head back painfully by the hair. Will cried out and looked up at Hannibal, surprised and a little disappointed. Hannibal smiled.

“I’d prefer to do something else to you, if you are partial to it.”

Will’s breath caught in his throat. “You, uh, you mean…”

“If you’re partial to it,” Hannibal repeated, placidly. “I told you – I shan’t make you do anything that you don’t want to.”

Will chewed his lower lip, letting his breath out in a shaky rush. “I think… I think I would like that.”

“Quid pro quo, Will,” Hannibal said. “I’ll give you something in return. Whatever you want to know.”

“Yes.”

“Stand up then.”

Awkwardly, Will clambered to his feet, Hannibal making no attempt to help him up despite his wobbling. Hannibal rose too and stepped closer to him until Will could feel Hannibal’s erection pressing against him, and was sure that Hannibal could feel his. Hannibal put a hand under his chin and tilted his face up, kissing him softly on the mouth, his teeth catching Will’s lips and biting down a little too hard for comfort, until Will moaned in pain. One hand cradled Will’s backside, his boxer’s still tucked beneath his bruised cheeks. 

“Bend over the table for me,” Hannibal whispered in his ear, kissing along his jaw.

Shaking slightly, Will turned and followed the instruction, resting his cheek against the cool metal. He felt a bead of sweat run down his back under the straightjacket; felt himself shudder as Hannibal’s fingers touched his hip, stroked his thigh. Hannibal stepped up behind him, so close his erection pressed against Will's leg and Will moaned, closing his eyes, expectant and nervous and almost delirious with desire. A moment passed, and then a jolt of pain as Hannibal’s slapped his ass again, hard.

“Ask a question, Will. Considering that we playing a game, the rules of which were dictated by you, you are terribly inconsistent at following them.”

Will struggled to think of a question, so distracted by the thought of Hannibal inside of him that he could barely string two words together. “Did you kill Cassie Boyle?”

Hannibal pinched his thigh, and Will yelped. “Yes.”

“Did you kill Marrisa Schur?”

A whistling sound and Will shrieked as Hannibal struck him again with the cane. “Yes.”

“And you killed my neurologist, Dr Sutcliffe. Cut his face open… Almost ripped it off…”

He felt Hannibal drop to his knees behind him and gasped as Hannibal’s rough tongue suddenly intruded between his buttocks and moved over his hole, his hands gripping Will’s hips tight enough to leave more bruises.

“Yes,” Hannibal murmured into his skin after a moment, his voice sounding different now, lower, more guttural. “He was your doctor and he agreed to betray your trust and withhold information about your illness from you. Terribly rude.”

“He agreed because you talked him into it I’ll bet,” Will said, breathless, feeling his face flush with arousal as Hannibal’s wet tongue pressed into him. “ _You_ betrayed my trust – Christ, fuck Hannibal!”

“You have a filthy mouth Will,” Hannibal said, and Will could _feel_ him smiling against his skin. “And besides. You were never technically my patient. We were only ever having conversations.”

“You betrayed my trust as – as my friend.”

“I helped you to know yourself better,” Hannibal whispered into Will’s bruised flesh as his lips moved over his ass, kissing and sucking gently, thinking about the patterns he wanted to leave on Will, how beautiful the younger man's skin would look in the morning, his paleness painted with reds and purples. Suddenly he bit down and Will screamed, feeling his hands clench into fists inside the straightjacket tight enough for his nails to draw blood from his palms. Gasping, tears running down his cheeks, Will half-expected Matthew to appear at the door and break it up, but he never did. He wasn’t sure he wanted him to. Hannibal’s mouth was still moving over him, his breath wonderfully hot, his hands slipping up the back of the straightjacket now, one nail scraping down Will's spine and making him shudder and jerk against the table, and then Hannibal was pulling the boxer shorts down his legs and helping him to step out of them, parting Will’s legs with coaxing hands.

Will heard a wet sound and realised that Hannibal was sucking his own fingers, and knew what was coming. His pulse was racing in his throat. He was painfully hard. He tried to imagine, with a longing that was agonising in its intensity, that he was in his own home where Hannibal could fuck him in his own bed, the noise of the wind outside and their own panting the only sounds, no interruptions, no one watching, listening; and afterward they would lie together for hours and hours, Hannibal’s fingers in his hair and tracing lazily over his chest as they talked and talked and talked, talked in the way that he couldn’t with anybody else, knowing that Hannibal was devoted to him and listening, really listening, to every word he said. They would fall asleep in each other’s arms and in the morning Hannibal would insist on making him breakfast, frowning patiently at how ill-equipped his kitchen was, promising to teach him how to cook properly someday, to take him to Italy, to show him beautiful things, to write him sonnets and symphonies to prove his love. And after breakfast they’d take the dogs for a walk and Will would no doubt end up blowing Hannibal on the porch before the morning was through, Hannibal chastising him for his lack of self-control but only teasing, certainly not telling him to stop. They would talk and fuck the day away, and Hannibal would tell him that it could be like that for always.

He tried to imagine that, but he could not. After months of hallucinations and confused states so vivid that he couldn’t tell when he was awake and when he was dreaming apart, now he was better and the world had all become painfully clear. Black and white. He knew where he was, what he was doing. He longed for Hannibal to fuck him now, but he also longed for all the things that should come after, that could have come after, but knew that time was running out and that could not happen anymore. 

“Ask a question,” Hannibal murmured, his breathing irregular and quick.

“You framed Georgia Madchen for Sutcliffe’s murder,” Will said, his voice breaking slightly as he swallowed down his regret. “And then you killed her too, didn’t you? Or at least, you gave her the murder weapon and let her accidentally kill herself.”

One wet finger pressed inside of him and Will stifled a gasp, feeling sweat break out across his forehead as Hannibal pushed his long finger all the way in and curled it. “Yes,” Hannibal said. “Another.”

“You - god, yes, right there - you tried to have Abel Gideon kill Alana.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Hannibal breathed, pushing another finger into Will and drawing a deep moan from him as he began to open him up. “And I will kill Gideon one day.”

“And Abigail. You… I didn’t kill her, did I? You made me think I did… You put her ear down my throat so that people would think – fuck – oh – people would think I was like her father.”

Hannibal pulled his fingers out so fast that Will felt empty at their loss and stood up, his shadow falling over Will. “Yes,” he said, his voice urgent now. “I made you believe that you were so sick and confused that you killed Abigail without even knowing it, but you did not. Believe me. When you kill someone, and you will, I want you to be aware of it. You will do it with your hands, and you will enjoy it.”

“I’m not going to kill anyone,” Will said. 

“You will,” Hannibal said. “When the time comes, you will. And you will understand yourself completely in that moment, and you will thank me.”

“I think I understand myself just fine,” Will murmured. “And I think I understand you a lot better as well.”

“Would you still like me to fuck you, Will?”

“Would you still like to fuck me, Dr Lecter?”

“I would. Very much so. I would like to know you completely.”

“And I you.”

“I don’t have any lubricant. Perhaps you should have asked your friend the orderly to smuggle you something like that rather than an implement with which I might hurt you.” At this, Hannibal picked up the cane again and brought it swiftly against Will’s backside and thighs again, several times, until Will was crying for him to stop in little whimpering gasps. “You did not think this through, did you?”

“I did not,” Will said, managing a breathless laugh. “Just do it. Fuck me until I can’t walk properly tomorrow. It’s not like I have anywhere to go.”

Hannibal’s hands came round him to stroke his cock and Will groaned, pressing himself shamelessly back to feel Hannibal’s erection. 

“Do you have any more questions?” Hannibal asked. 

“No. Just do it.”

“Quid pro quo, remember? I want to fuck you, what would you like in return?”

“I’m sure I’m going to get something back from this, don’t you worry,” Will said. “I want your cock in me Hannibal, please put it in me already.”

“I have always wanted to hear you beg,” Hannibal murmured. He spread Will’s cheeks with his hands and leant over to spit against his hole. “I’m sorry that this can’t be more elegant. This is not the setting I imagined our first rendezvous, if I am perfectly honest with you.”

“Me neither. But it doesn’t matter. Just love me, fuck me, do whatever you want to me, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Hannibal murmured, and pressed himself into Will. Will gasped and moaned as Hannibal pushed himself in a little deeper, one hand on Will's hip and the other on his cock, stroking gently. Will bit his lip, his eyes screwed shut as he adjusted to the sensation, as he felt himself being slowly stretched and filled with Hannibal's beautiful cock. It was a little painful but not unbearably so, not so much that he wanted Hannibal to stop, though he thought he might hurt in the morning. The morning did not matter, however; there could be no morning-after for him and Hannibal, not anymore, so all that mattered was this moment, this moment with Hannibal inside him, every other thought scattering from his head in the intoxicating presence of that knowledge, _Hannibal was inside of him, Hannibal was fucking him -_

“Are you alright?” Hannibal asked as Will slowly opened his eyes. 

“Yes, great. Keep going, it feels good.”

“Wonderful,” Hannibal muttered, and at that he began to fuck Will in earnest, so hard and fast that Will was grateful that the table was bolted to the floor, that being just about the only coherent thought he could muster as Hannibal jerked him off with one hand, the other briefly wrapping around his throat to choke him a little, before gripping his hair again and pushing his face down as he thrust into him. Will could hear the noises that Hannibal was pulling out of him, the loud unmistakable moans and the hitching breaths, the sobs and whimpers and curses, and knew he should have been embarrassed that Matthew was listening down the hall; he should have been embarrassed but he wasn’t, even when he screamed Hannibal’s name, feeling himself approaching the edge, his whole body tight and quivering and alive.

Sensing that Will was barely able to contain himself, Hannibal pulled out, ignoring Will’s desperate moans of protestation. Instead, he settled himself back in the chair with his legs slightly parted and beckoned Will to come to him, positioning Will so that he was straddling him and holding Will’s sides carefully to prevent him from overbalancing as he eased himself into Will again. It was not the most comfortable position; Will could feel his legs shaking and was worried they might give way beneath him, but at least now he was in some kind of control of the situation, and besides, he could look Hannibal in the eye. He leaned forward to kiss Hannibal, forcing himself down until he was practically sitting on Hannibal’s lap again, and Hannibal felt so much deeper in him this way. His own cock pressed against Hannibal’s stomach, his breath stuttering out of him and becoming lost in Hannibal’s mouth as their kiss deepened, Hannibal’s hands in his hair again, both utterly breathless by the time they broke apart. Hannibal hands skated down Will’s back to hold his waist, his eyes brimming with affection.

“I know that you believe I have done you a great injustice by having you confined in here,” Hannibal said. His pupils were so dilated with excitement that his eyes looked completely black. His hair was tousled and a few silvery strands fell over his forehead, and Will thought again of badly he would have loved to have the morning after, waking up beside Hannibal in one of their own beds and laughing at each other’s sex-hair, Hannibal rubbing lotion into his sore bruised skin, telling him he loved him. How he would wear the marks Hannibal had left on him. How he would catch Hannibal staring at him when he thought Will wasn't looking, with aching love in his eyes. As Hannibal continued speaking and Will thought again of all the things they could have had, he thought he might scream and scream. 

“You do not belong here, Will; I know that and so do you. You and I are very much alike, and we are not insane. We understand the world better than most – we are able to see the artistry in its cruelty, hear the poetry in its screams. There can be great beauty in horror, you and I both know that. And they call us mad. They would take our freedom, and perhaps our lives, to protect their sheltered understanding of the way things are. I do not desire to spend the rest of my life in this place any more than you do, and now that you have spent some time here, you understand. Do you see? I needed to show you this in order for you to better understand yourself, to understand what you want from life, and to understand me. Do you understand?”

Will swallowed, feeling himself on the verge of tears. “I understand,” he said, and because he couldn’t bear to have this conversation, couldn’t bear to consider that maybe the reason he understood Hannibal so well was because they were so alike, he began to move up and down on Hannibal’s cock as the man thrust up into him, concentrating only on the satisfied moans he drew from Hannibal, wishing his hands were free to grip Hannibal’s hair, to choke him so he couldn’t say the things which made Will question everything he believed about himself. He leant forward and kissed the top of Hannibal’s head, sweat rolling off his nose, Hannibal obligingly tilting his head to kiss sloppily at Will’s throat, leave another bite mark on Will’s jaw. Will could feel himself approaching climax again, his hard cock rubbing against the soft fabric Hannibal’s shirt, now wet with pre-cum. 

“We should have done this sooner,” Hannibal said, his voice rough and breathless.

Will bit his lip, his curls bouncing on his sweaty forehead as Hannibal fucked him. “Please touch me Hannibal, I’m going to cum.”

Hannibal’s hand slipped obligingly around his cock, his touch excruciatingly gentle. “Let’s come together.”

It didn’t take much; a few light jerks of Will’s cock and he came all over Hannibal’s shirt, gasping and moaning Hannibal’s name, Hannibal coming a second later as Will’s body tightened around him. Hannibal moaned something in three different languages and grabbed a fistful of Will’s hair as they rode the sensation out together, and then Will was collapsing forward onto him and Hannibal was panting against his shoulder, both too exhausted to speak for a moment. Eventually, Will sat up and eased himself off of Hannibal’s cock, inadvertently leaking Hannibal’s cum all over the man’s pants as he did so. His legs were too weak; he sat back down on Hannibal’s lap almost at once and leant forward until their foreheads were resting against one another and he could feel Hannibal's breath on his face. Hannibal smiled sleepily.

“This was an expensive suit, Will.”

“Fuck the suit.”

“You practically did,” Hannibal said, gesturing at Will’s cum still dripping down his tie. “I do not have a change of clothes with me. I have to walk out of here like this.”

“Yes. You get to walk out of here. So stop complaining.”

Hannibal put his hand on the side of Will’s face. “And you will too. Soon, I promise. But not yet.”

Will stared Hannibal down for a moment, before standing up. Body still quivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm, he walked slowly over to the window and stared out at the sky, his back to Hannibal. He heard the man stand up and sigh, brush the worst of the mess off himself, hide the rest as best he could with the jacket of his suit. 

“Would you like me to visit again, Will?” Hannibal asked. Will could not be entirely certain, but he thought he heard a nervous hesitancy in Hannibal’s voice, like a boy inviting his crush to the prom. “I rather enjoyed myself. If you would like to continue operating on a quid pro quo agreement in future, I’m sure that I can find things to offer you. There are things you don't have. Many things I'm willing to give.”

Will did not turn around. He thought that if he had to look at Hannibal in that moment, his heart might break. “Perhaps. You know where to find me.”

“I do,” Hannibal said. He lingered a moment longer, and Will closed his eyes, horrified at the thought that Hannibal might want to kiss goodbye, and that he might lose his mind and tell him everything. But then the door opened and closed, and Will was alone.

Legs shaking, he let out a hitching sob, his eyes still tightly shut. When a hand settled on his shoulder a minute later, he almost screamed. But it was only Matthew.

“You look like you had a good time…” Matthew murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from the angry red lines the cane had raised on Will’s buttocks, from the bite marks, from the semen still leaking down his thighs. 

“Did you get the tape?” Will said, very quietly, frightened to know the answer. 

Matthew rattled something beside his head and Will opened his eyes. It was a small recording device.

“His full confession,” Matthew said, a sly smile curling his lips. “And some other stuff the courts will probably enjoy listening to. You could have stopped, you know?”

“What?”

“You didn’t have to let him fuck you. He’d already said everything you needed him to say.”

Will turned his head to look at Matthew and saw the man flinch at whatever he saw in Will's face. “I let him fuck me because I wanted him to. Because I will miss him.”

Matthew glanced at his shoes. He looked a little disappointed. 

“I’ll help you get cleaned up and take you back to your cell. Then we can send this tape to the proper authorities.”

“Fine,” Will said, his throat so tight he could barely breathe.

It was not until he was back in his cell and the bars had slammed closed behind him that he began to feel a little better about what he had done. He lay down on his bunk and folded his hands on his midriff, ignoring Gideon’s questioning from the other side of the wall as his mind dwelt on the reckoning that was to come.

Hannibal deserved everything that was coming to him. It was a long time coming. And as full of regret as Will was that they could not have spent more time together before this day came, he could not feel entirely bad about it.

After all, he could always visit Lecter in the hospital.


End file.
